Road Not Traveled
by Katriona
Summary: A rather odd five-part fic about what the Charmed Ones' lives might have become if they were mortals. It's not a completely non-magical fic, just not in the Halliwell line. First chapter focuses on Prue.


Imperfection  
  
Summary: The first in a rather odd five-part series about what the Charmed Ones' lives might have become had they been normal, mortal girls. This one focuses on Prue.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I just come up with twisted situations to put them in.  
  
A/N: This will all come out in the fic, but I should probably put it here anyway. In this fic, Prue is 37. She has a 21-year-old son named London, 20-year-old twin son and daughter named Kiev and Kaitaia, and a 14-year-old daughter named Sicily. Magic exists, just not within the Halliwell line. This is just one of the paths Prue's life might have taken had the whole Charmed thing not been there to complicate matters.  
  
A/N2: I'll group all five parts in one fic to save space, but I'm treating them as seperate one-chapter fics in a series, so please review them seperately. Thankya. :)  
  
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Prue Halliwell was sitting on a large boulder in the quiet, empty beach, a camera strap around her neck, snapping pictures of the waves. It was early, just after sunrise, and she was alone, save for one sandy-haired man walking toward her. He was still some distance away, so on a whim, Prue took a picture of him before turning back to the ocean. It was another few minutes before he reached her.  
  
"You look like you could use some company," he said, leaning up against her rock, which was almost as tall as he.  
  
She dropped her eyes, barely turning her head to look at him. "And how would you know that," she asked, "From all the way across the beach?"  
  
He shrugged. "Call it instinct. I can read people, better than most." Changing the subject, he asked, "Do you come here often?"  
  
"Every morning," she replied, going back to her camera. "It's peaceful."  
  
"Still, it's got to be at least a little lonely," he ventured.  
  
She turned to look at him again. "What do you want?" It wasn't rude or accusing, just a simple question, to which he gave a simple answer.  
  
"To give you what you want. You seem like someone who needs a person to talk to."  
  
She studied him carefully. She knew she should find him presumptuous and intrusive, but something about him sparked her curiousity, so she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Sure, I'll talk."  
  
He took her hand, helping her off the rock. "I know this great cafe, just a few miles down the road. Let's go there."  
  
She nodded, and they started walking. Neither said a word. Prue looked straight ahead, while his gaze kept coming back to her. He couldn't help noticing the way that her white sundress clung to her thin, emaciated frame. Her pallor was exaggerated by the contrast of her jet-black hair, and her blue-green eyes held a twinge of sadness. Resisting the urge to pull her into a hug, he walked alongside her in silence.  
  
They stayed this way until they reached the cafe, where he ordered two lattes. Without asking what she wanted, he knew exactly what she always ordered. Prue didn't know what to make of this - Could it just be a coincidence? She tried to convince herself it was, but she couldn't keep the little hairs on the back of her neck from pricking up all the same.  
  
He didn't seem to notice her apprehension as he led her to a table for two outside. He waited until they were both comfortably seated, then began with, "So, tell me about yourself."  
  
Prue shrugged. "There's not much to tell. I don't know why you think I'm all that interesting, but I'm not, I swear."  
  
He tilted his head to one side. "Oh, come on now. Everybody's interesting in one way or another. Where did you grow up?"  
  
"I grew up in San Fransisco, with my mother, grandmother, and three younger sisters," she replied, feeling odd. She hadn't spoked about them in years.  
  
"Are you and your family still close?" he asked, taking a sip of his latte.  
  
She shook her head. "No. I ran away when I was sixteen."  
  
He didn't seem surprised. His only response was to ask why.  
  
Nervously, Prue started playing with her hands. "I was pregnant. The father, Andy, had been my best friend my whole life, so we decided to run away together. I knew I should have stayed, and let my family help me, but I couldn't. Up until then, I had always been the perfect, responsible eldest child, and I was afraid of what they'd think of me if they knew, so I left. Andy and I were up in Portland when our son, London, was born. A year later, we had twins, a boy named Kiev and a girl named Kaitaia. We got married a year after that, when we both turned eighteen."  
  
"You aren't wearing a ring now," he observed.  
  
Prue nodded wistfully. "Yeah, well, how many people can stay in love with the same person since they were twelve years old? Andy and I tried to make it work, for the kids' sake, but we were so young, and it was so hard. We were living paycheck to paycheck, and we were fighting all the time, and barely keeping our heads above water. Then he started cheating, and I starting drinking, and things pretty much hit rock bottom. When I got pregnant the last time, with our daughter, Sicily, we had to really examine things. Having another baby forced us to look at things closer, and we realized that we just couldn't do this anymore."  
  
He tilted his head, his expression telling her he understood. "That couldn't have been an easy decision, for either of you."  
  
"It wasn't as hard as it seems," she countered. "I guess by then we were both looking for an out. So he left, and aside from the occasional check, we really haven't heard from him since the divorce. I got sober, but that only lasted until Sicily was about one and a half. London was barely nine years old at the time, but he kinda took charge, taking care of his brother and sisters while I bounced around from job to job. Sissy - that's what her siblings call her - was about five when we moved back to California. I still couldn't hold a job, because I was out getting drunk when I should have been at work or taking Kiev to Little League or giving Kaitaia the Talk or helping Sicily adjust to kindergarten or making sure London did his homework or any of those other little things that good, responsible parents are supposed to be doing." Prue shook her head, trying to suppress the memories. "Those kids deserved so much better than they had in me."  
  
"Don't say that," he said soothingly. "You tried, when a lot of people wouldn't have bothered. You're here now, aren't you? That's got to count for something."  
  
"No," she insisted quitely. "They deserved better. They know it, too. London resents me for making him grow up so fast, practically raising his siblings. Kaiti has become such a perfectionist, just like I used to be. Kiev... God, I don't even know where his head's at lately. He seems intent on repeating every one of my and his father's mistakes, only worse. Even Sicily hates me. She's out all the time, and she refuses to talk to me about anything. Not that I blame any of them."  
  
"You shouldn't blame yourself so much, either," he replied. "Prue, you were just a kid. Sure, you made some bad choices, but don't you think it's time you stopped paying for them?"  
  
"I'm not the only one," she said, her voiced strained. "Everyone who's ever loved me, they're the ones who are paying. My mom, my sisters, my kids. They've all been hurt because of my 'bad choices'. If anyone should stop paying, it's them."  
  
"Maybe it's time for all of you to get a fresh start," he offered.  
  
She looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"  
  
He took a long sip of his coffee. "Well, have you seen your sisters since you left? Spoken to them on the phone? Written them a letter? Do your kids even know about them at all?"  
  
Prue shook her head slowly, her eyes tearing. "No. No, I completely abandoned them, twenty-one years ago. You know my youngest sister, Paige, was only ten when I left. Younger than Sissy is now. Kaiti looks just like her. And Phoebe, the second-youngest, was on such a wild streak. I was always getting mad at her, until I messed up even worse and everything she'd done just kinda paled in comparison. Ironic, isn't it? And Piper... She must hate me the most. I left her when she was fourteen, right when she needed me. I think about her, whenever Sicily's shutting me out, which lately has been always. Maybe it's not just a coincidence that she's pushing me away now, when she's the exact same age Piper was then. Maybe it's, I don't know, karma or something."  
  
He suppressed a laugh, his green eyes twinkling. "I don't think it's that. I do think you need to patch things up with your family. Maybe it's time for you to stop running, Prue. Maybe it's time to go home."  
  
She inhaled slowly, letting his words sink in. It was too much, what he was saying. She'd never told anyone what she'd told him that morning, and now, she didn't know what to do.  
  
"I have to go," she said, greabbing her camera and getting up so quickly that her chair almost fell. "My kids should be up, they're probably wondering where I am." This was only half true. She knew her children were awake by now, but she highly doubted they wondered or cared where she was. Still, she suddenly felt she needed to be with them, and, more pressingly, away from him. She paused, however, to ask him one last question. "Who are you?"  
  
"Leo," he told her, "My name is Leo Wyatt."  
  
"Oh," she said faintly. Satisfied with this short answer, Prue left the cafe and hurried home.  
  
When she got there, Kiev and Sicily were sitting on the couch watching television. They didn't look up when she came in.  
  
"Hey, guys, where are London and Kaiti?"  
  
Sicily pointed to the staircase, which, like the rest of the house, was covered in clothes and papers and miscellenious clutter.  
  
"They're still sleeping?" Prue questioned, shocked. As the respective oldest son and oldest daughter, London and Kaitaia were the responsible ones in the family. They were the only ones to hold down steady jobs, the only ones who knew how to cook more than Easy-Mac, and the only ones whose rooms were at least semi-clean, so the if they were sleeping on a Saturday morning, something had to be wrong.  
  
"They're awake," Kiev said, and Prue noticed he smelled faintly of beer. "They've been fighting all morning over whose turn it is to cook dinner or do the laundry or take Sissy to the mall or something."  
  
"Okay, then," Prue replied. "London, Kaiti, can you come down here for a minute? I wanna talk to you guys," she yelled up the stairs. She then went to turn off the TV.  
  
"Hey," Sicily snapped, twirling her curly black hair.  
  
Prue ignored her daughter's complaint. "Okay, guys, we need to talk," she said when her missing two children appeared in the doorway.  
  
London, a full head taller than his mother, looked down at her, squinting his light blue eyes. "Talk?" he repeated, as if the word were foreign to him. "Mom, is something wrong?"  
  
"No, not wrong, exactly, just... not right," Prue evaded. "Just please sit down, and I'll explain everything."  
  
Warily, Kaitaia and London did as instructed. Sicily and Kiev moved to opposite ends of the couch to make room for them, and Prue sat in the adjacent beat-up, overstuffed armchair. She began with, "So, how would you guys like to take a little trip to San Fransisco?"  
  
Four sets of eyes stared at her blankly.  
  
"Why San Fransisco?" Kaitaia asked.  
  
Prue took a deep breath. Now for the hard part. "Because that's where your father and I grew up. And because I have three sisters, and a mother and grandmother who might still be there."  
  
Nobody said anything for a while. The kids looked at each other, wondering where this was coming from.  
  
"Are you sick?" Sicily asked suddenly.  
  
"Why-- what?" Prue asked, her eyes narrowing in confusion.  
  
"Well, first you call a family meeting. We've never had family meetings," her youngest child started to explain. "Then you start talking about going back to where you and our father grew up - and you mention our father, for that matter, I don't think you've ever done that before - and a bunch of reletives we never knew we had. Why else would you be bringing this up now, if you weren't dying or something?"  
  
Prue sighed, leaning forward. "No, baby, I'm not sick. I just... I met someone this morning, at the beach, and he made me realize just how much I want to reconnect with them, and with you, too."  
  
"He?" London repeated, running a hand through his spikey dark hair. "This isn't going to turn into another one of your dumbass boyfriends, is it?"  
  
"No," she answered quickly. "I promise, he's not. I don't even know who he is, really-" At this point, Kiev rolled his eyes and muttered something about how that made him different from any of his mother's previous flings. She ignored him and continued. "-But that's irrelevent. We talked, for a long time, about things I've never told anyone before. Look, the point is that even though I know I'm quite possibly the worst daughter, the worst sister, and the worst mother in the world, I love you and I need you to know that. This... person... helped me see that I need to tell you and my sisters and everyone else all the things that I've been waiting to tell you for years, but haven't said because I thought I wasn't good enough. I need to go back. So, what do you say? Will you come with me?"  
  
London, Kiev, Kaitaia, and Sicily looked at each other, thinking it over before coming to a silent, unanimous agreement.  
  
"Yeah," London said. "We want to go."  
  
"Okay," Prue said quietly, amazed at how easy it had been. She looked down, nervously playing with her hands. For now at least, there was nothing else to say. She could sense that her kids were feeling just as odd and uncomfortable as she was, but that didn't seem to matter. She'd told her kids she loved them, and they hadn't rolled their eyes or delivered the perfect cutting sarcastic remark. After all that they'd been through, it felt like a good start.  
  
Prue smiled to herself, thinking that maybe they'd be okay after all. And if they were, she knew, it would be because of Leo Wyatt. 


End file.
